


Reverie

by Pixie (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Episode: s01e17 Shore Leave, F/M, Ficlet, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: anonymous requested T’Pol and Trip Tucker +Smooch39:because time’s run outand 50:out of love





	Reverie

It's warm, and humid. Much closer to Earth's climate than Vulcan's. Much closer to a Florida swamp than her hometown. Here, everywhere she looks is green.

Curious, she crouches down to examine a reed more closely. There are dusty hills and rocky outcroppings beyond the glade, of course. She'd read the report on the way here and knows it's idyllic to a purpose. Fresh air and sunlight, just what the doctor ordered.

"Hello darlin'."

She looks up at the voice. His blue grey eyes twinkle down at her as he offers a hand up. A welcome hand -- she's tired, and her joints are stiffer than she wants to admit.

"Commander Tucker."

"Commander Tucker?" He shakes his head, a playful smile on his lips. He's still holding her hand. It feels awkward, though he doesn't seem to notice. "C'mon, T'Pol, you're on leave, cap'n said."

She frowns, but nods finally, and pulls her hand away.

"Walk with me." He gestures toward the water, a simple path follows along the shore. She presses her lips together, hesitant. He cocks his head. "Smell the roses."

She nods again and they start walking, falling quickly into an easy rhythm. T'Pol breathes deeply.

"A curious expression."

Trip quirks an eyebrow towards her. "How so?" A smile tugs at his lips, stirring something in her belly.

"A flower's scent attracts pollinators. There is no evolutionary purpose for people to smell them."

He chuckles and the belly feeling grows. She blinks, caught off guard by the appearance of a rose bush in full bloom just off the path. It seems perfectly natural but incongruous, somehow, to the rest of the scenery. T'Pol raises an eyebrow. Trip grins and leans across to carefully pluck a stem.

"Sure there is. Means you're not just paying attention," he holds out rose to her, "you're slowing down to really experience everything."

Tentative, T'Pol leans in to smell the flower. It has a spicy fragrance, reminiscent of cloves. Her eyes flicker up, lock with Trip's over the bloom.

"Lots of life goes too fast," he murmurs, watching her. "Maybe not for you Vulcans."

T'Pol's lips part. She holds his gaze a long moment before rushing forward to close the gap between them. The kiss is deep, fervent, and she lets herself get lost for a time. The rose is crushed between their bodies and falls, forgotten, to the ground.

Then, just as suddenly, she pulls back, raises her arms defensively, fingers fluttering.

Trip frowns. "What's wrong?"

T'Pol drops her hands to her side and forces her breathing to calm. She raises her chin, meets his eyes. "I miss you."

A wide smile crosses his face. "I missed you, too." He brushes her cheek with a gentle hand. It's cool on her skin.

"I shouldn't have come."

"Why not? It's beautiful here."

She nods. _It is_. But. "It's not real."

"I don't understand."

Her eyes are sad on his. "I know."

She leans in again to touch his lips. Slow this time, deliberate. He feels real, even familiar, but there's no touch of his mind to hers. No brush with Trip's wide open enthusiasm or playful intelligence or all too human heart, eager, and steadfast. This figure wearing Trip's body has no mind at all. He's empty, like the last time she brushed his lips, after his death. It was too late then and too late now.

She touches her forehead to his. The wind blows her white streaked hair off her face. He looks just as she remembers him. It is a good memory.

"Goodbye," she whispers into the wind.

* * *

"Did you have a good time?" The Admiral greets her in the transporter room, with the question, twinkling eyes, and another welcome helping hand.

T'Pol purses her lips, considering, as she's lead to her quarters. A rest will also be welcome, the visit planetside was draining for a multitude of reasons. She wouldn't exactly classify it as a good time, and her thoughts now tend to the nostalgic, but she must admit it was not unpleasant. Illogical, but not a waste of time.

The Admiral waits, with an inquisitive look, but a patience T'Pol particularly appreciates in her advancing age. Jonathan's granddaughter, his eldest Charlotte's child, now old enough to be a grandmother herself, but also the same age T'Pol was when she first served on _Enterprise_ , all those years ago. She was barely an adult.

Human lives are fleeting.

She accepts a cup of tea, a deep red color, the glass hot against her skin. It reminds her of home. She looks up to meet the bright eyes of Jonathan's legacy, and Trip's, and hers. So much love fills the room.

"It was nice to smell the roses."


End file.
